


The Same Deep Water as You

by 5kenx5



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5kenx5/pseuds/5kenx5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of short, fluffy, relatively canon-compliant ficlets set ranging from season 3 to post Samaritan. In the post Samaritan stuff Root will definitely be alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic on this site. I'm just writing it to get these little ideas out while I work on a multi-chapter fic. The title is a song by The Cure. I don't really know what it has to do with anything, I was just listening to the song as I started writing this and it stuck lol. Hope y'all enjoy~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the Pink Floyd song. Enjoy~

“Sam?” Root whispered, lifting her head from the pillow she’d made out of Shaw’s chest. Shaw stirred slightly when Root untangled their arms and legs, but she didn’t open her eyes. Root watched her steady breathing for a moment to be sure she was still asleep.

“There’s something I want to tell you, but I don’t think you’d let me if you were awake,” Root started, her voice low. She propped herself up on her elbow, wrapping her other hand around Shaw’s. She smiled slightly at the realization that just a few months ago, Shaw would wake up and reach for her gun if Root had even rolled over in the bed, or breathed too loudly; she’d gotten more than one bloody nose from throwing her arm around Shaw in her sleep. Root felt a puff of pride as she dragged her fingers over Shaw’s skin and watched her peaceful breathing remain steady.

“I know you’ll never love me,” she sighed, interlocking their fingers. Shaw didn’t move.

“I know sometimes you wish you could, even though you’ll never admit it.” Root laid back down onto the pillow beside Shaw, nudging her nose into the nape of Shaw’s neck.  
“But I need you to know that that’s okay. I love you,” Shaw’s breathing hitched for just a moment; Root watched as she clenched her jaw. But it lasted only a second and Root was sure Shaw was just dreaming.

“And when I say that it’s not because I need to hear it back. It has nothing to do with me. I just need you to know that I don’t love you _despite_ your…” She paused for a moment, pondering her word choice. She used the moment to scoot a little bit closer to Shaw, already missing the body heat from their contact.

“…your differences; I love you, in part, _because_ of them. You’re special. And I don’t need you to love me, Sameen, I just need you to let me love you.” She nuzzled in closer to Shaw.

  
“Please don’t push me away.” She breathed.

“Root.” She felt the vibrations of the groggy voice against her chin. Her heart crawled up into her chest.

“Hmm?” She whispered nervously, preparing to be told to go sleep on the couch. Shaw turned so they were facing each other, their noses only inches apart. Root was surprised that Shaw was looking into her eyes.

“I…” She let out an exasperated breath and shook her head softly in frustration.

“I know, Sam.” Root smiled a placating smile.

“No, you don’t.” Shaw said, just as she moved her head forward and pressed her lips to Root’s in the most tender kiss they’d ever shared. It was soft and light and said all the things Shaw would never be able to say with words. Root smiled into the kiss. She thought, from Shaw, it was better than an “I love you” ever could’ve been.

“Go back to sleep, Root.” Shaw muttered after breaking the kiss. Root smiled into Shaw’s chest as she laid back down and closed her eyes, feeling Shaw’s arm cautiously curl around her.

Root woke up the next morning wearing the same drunken grin she fell asleep with.


	2. When the Sun Rose Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root and Shaw spend the night together. They get a phone call from Harold the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from an Alice In Chains song. Enjoy~

Shaw was pulled from the deepest sleep she’d had in years by an obnoxiously loud noise coming from the nightstand beside her bed. She groaned when she realized that burying her head deeper into the pillow didn’t drown out the sound at all. She carefully untangled herself from Root’s long arms draped around her, caught herself before the twitching edges of her lips could fully turn into a half-smile as she watched a stray piece of hair float up and down in front Root’s mouth in time with her breathing, and reminded herself that Root sleeping through the blaring noise in the room was annoying, like Root always was, and certainly not something that made her stomach feel…gassy? It was the closest thing Shaw recognized to the feeling her gut but somehow she knew that wasn’t the problem.

The sound was coming from her phone, face down on the nightstand and shaking incessantly as the squealing ringtone resonated through the room. Shaw let out a deep sigh of exasperation when Root didn’t even stir at the noise. Maybe if Shaw hadn’t been still mostly-asleep, maybe if she hadn’t been distracted by a weird fluttery sensation in her stomach (something she had decided was hunger but still knew wasn't), maybe if she couldn’t feel Root’s bare legs twisted up with hers and her warm breath tickling at Shaw’s arm as she leaned over her to reach the phone, maybe then Shaw would have looked at the caller I.D. and realize it said “Harry” instead of “Boss Man” across the screen.

“What do you want?” Shaw answered, not bothering to conceal the irritation in her voice. It was early, the sun wasn’t even up yet, and she was exhausted. The number from the day before was a lot of work to keep up with it, it was definitely tiring to keep up with him, but it was what came after that took all of her energy.

“Ms…Ms. Shaw?” The voice on the other end of the line asked in confusion. '

“Who else would it be, Finch?” Shaw sighed in frustration. Harold called her, after all. Shaw wasn’t in the mood for his annoying quirks, not that early in the morning, not when she could feel Root stirring beneath her. She looked so peaceful, her head nudged into Shaw’s midsection and arms sprawled across her like she never wanted to let go. Shaw didn’t want her to wake up. And when she realized that, she rolled her eyes at herself in annoyance. She convinced herself it was just because she was jealous that Root was still sleeping, something Shaw so desperately wanted to be.

“Why do you- why are you answering Ms. Groves’s phone?” He asked slowly. And that’s when Shaw felt the color drain from her face. She tugged the phone from her ear, checking for the crack in the screen she always felt pull at her finger as she sent a text, checking for “Boss Man” in the caller I.D. box, checking for the standard black background she kept as her wallpaper. None of it was there. Instead she found a god damn screen protecter, “Harry” with a smiley face emoji next to his name in the caller I.D. box, and a disgustingly off guard background picture of Shaw being mauled by Bear’s tongue while Root stuck her face into his fur. Of course Root slept through her own phone ringing. Of course Shaw answered it by accident.

“Oh… We uh, we must have accidentally gotten them mixed up last night when everything went sideways with our number.” Shaw took a moment to figure out what to say but finally said it with confidence. However, as if on cue, Root woke up precisely as Shaw finished her sentence.

“Morning, Sweetie,” Root smiled and yawned deeply before leaning in closer to Shaw and continuing. “Who you talking to?”

"Root, Shaw, what are you two-" John's voice came over the phone. He stopped himself midsentence. Harold cleared his throat. Shaw didn't move. Root beamed at her with an innocent smile that was anything but innocent.

"What do you need Harold?" Shaw shook her head, feeling Root's smile even as she looked away. Shaw knew the boys would never let her live this one down.


	3. Unbroken Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root catches John and Shaw talking about her. John equally supports her and teases her in true big brother fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place maybe a few months after Samaritan goes down. Root and John are both still alive and Harold is back working the numbers too. Title is from a Grateful Dead song. Enjoy~

“Root should be here soon to drop off the drives,” Shaw told John through a mouthful of her sub, the one she made John buy her on the walk back to the subway after completing their mission.

“How’s she doing?” John questioned hesitantly. Root was doing her best after the whole dying thing to keep herself together around the team, but John knew PTSD when he saw it. He saw it on Shaw every day when she’d reach up and touch the spot behind her ear or slip up and go for the kill shot instead of the knee caps. He saw it in her eyes when he’d find her with her back against the walls and her knees to her chest and an empty look in her eyes that only Root seemed to be able to pull her out of.

John saw it on Root too. She flinched at gunfire and hesitated just a moment before jumping into the fray when a gun fight broke out. She seemed to develop a thing for knives rather than guns as well. John noticed Shaw started carrying extra because Root never brought them with her anymore. She’d grab one (instead of her usual two) out of the waist band of Shaw’s pants like it was her own holster, and she’d give it back when she was done. John could tell from the circles under both of their eyes that neither of them were sleeping very well; if he had to guess, he’d say between _both_ of their nightmares waking each other up, they were probably only sleeping a couple hours a night.

Harold and John never bothered asking for Bear back once they returned. John hoped the dog was helping to take care of the girls. Between the two of them, they’d been through more than he could imagine. And he had a vivid imagination.

“Better,” Shaw answered, not going into much detail. Her mouth was still full of sandwich.

“Good, good. What about you, Shaw?” John raised his eyebrows. His voice was cautious. He knew better than to push her but he couldn’t help but ask. He knew their latest job (saving an ex-Samaritan agent that had worked with Greer from his vengeful ex-wife) must have stirred up some things for her. She shrugged at him but it felt forced. He’d seen her touch the spot behind her ear at least twice already since they left the number; that was a lot for one day. John had never pointed it out, but he always noticed. Sometimes she’d go almost a whole week without touching it on the job. Other days she reached for it hourly. He still didn't know what had happened to her when she was held captive by the Samaritan agents, only Root seemed to have any clue and he knew Root would never talk about it if Shaw didn't want her to. He only knew that there were things she called "simulations," and she always touched behind her ear when she was struggling with her grip on reality.

John only noticed the ear thing because of Root. Once, in a particularly bad episode for Shaw shortly after Root had first returned, he saw Root tuck her hair behind her ear and run her fingers over the skin Shaw was all but clawing at. She'd whispered something to her, John wasn't sure what, and watched Shaw nod in agreement. Harold and John didn't dare try to touch her but she let Root take her in her arms. They disappeared out of the safe house doorway and when Shaw returned to the subway the next morning, nobody mentioned it ever again. John and Harold both knew better than to bring it up to her; they preferred their organs on the _inside_ of their bodies. But that's when John started subtly paying attention to her ear.

“I’m fine,” Shaw said coldly, but it sounded foreign even on her own tongue. John could tell but he kept quiet. He just shifted uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around us, John. We aren’t broken.” Her voice was harsher than he expected. She got up from the couch and threw her sandwich wrap away, slightly disgusted at herself. _Since when did Root and I become a 'we?'_ she thought to herself.

“I know. I'm just concerned for you two," He tried, but Shaw shut him down with a hard glare.

"So uh, how far out is your girlfriend?” John blurted in attempt to change the subject. Shaw stopped in her tracks.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” she grumbled out. John rolled his eyes in a manner worthy of Sameen Shaw. They’d had this same conversation for months. Ever since Root came back to life (he wasn’t entirely sure how _that_ had happened. Root explained something much too technical for his taste, but Harold and Shaw seemed to understand what had happened so he pretended he did too). It always started the same: John accidentally calling Root her girlfriend, Shaw spitting back out that she wasn’t, telling John that Zoe was never his girlfriend just because they were sleeping together, so why should Root be hers? John usually tried to end the argument by pointing out the obvious: him and Zoe never lived together, worked together, ate together, slept together, shared a pet together. He also loved to bring up that he never essentially died for her (Shaw almost regretted what happened at the Stock Exchange when John would bring _that_ into the argument. Almost.) … he generally never made it through more than a couple items in the list before Shaw decked him in the face. But this time was different. Her voice wasn’t as angry as it usually was; it was just hopeless.

"Not this again," John sighed as he took a step back, just in case Shaw took the opportunity to use him as a punching bag. Shaw rolled her eyes at him, but he spoke up again.

"You guys are a couple with everything but the label, Shaw. Just admit it."

"Are you trying to make me kill you, John?" He put his hands up in mock surrender but still continued again after a beat.

“You're going to have to admit it sooner or later. She deserves that."

Shaw looked at him with furrowed brows.

"We bonded while you were...gone. She's not so bad." John responded with a light chuckle. Three years ago, he never would have imagined that he'd ever be caught defending _Root_ of all people, or having a discussion with Shaw about her love life. In all honesty, three years ago he would have expected Shaw to have killed Root by now. Things had definitely changed.

"She deserves to be happy," He added when Shaw didn't speak.

 "I know," Shaw let out a deep sigh, shaking her head lightly and avoiding his eyes.John could hear the hurt in her voice, but he couldn’t deny the honesty in it either. John was surprised she was actually talking to him. The only thing she was better at than homicide and eye-rolling was deflecting any sign of emotional talk. He couldn't believe she hadn't lashed out yet. This had been the least violent of their _Root is your girlfriend/Root is not my girlfriend_ conversations by a long shot.

“If it’s just sex to you, why don’t you just leave then?” John asked, knowing full well it wasn’t just sex to her but waiting for her to admit it to herself.

“I can’t,” Shaw said, and John could’ve sworn he heard her voice shake if he didn’t know any better. Shaw shook her head at the ground, an embarrassed half-smile plastered on her lips. “I don't think it's just sex anymore, but I don't know. I'm not cut out for this.”

“Well if she isn’t your girlfriend _or_ your sex toy, what is she?”

“A pain in my ass?” Shaw tried, but it lacked the usual bite. John waited expectantly. Shaw sighed and gave in.

“She’s just my…Root. She’s home,” Shaw's voice was low.

"But she is _not_ my girlfriend." She added, seeming to snap out of her Root Reverie. Her menacing tone fell short.

Before John could argue, they heard a shuffling noise from the safe house door.

“Hey, Sweetie. Hey, Lurch,” a voice rang out. _Root_. Shaw’s body froze. John was grinning in amusement, despite the unflattering nickname. Though, he supposed it was better than _Sweetie_ .

“How long have you been standing there.” Shaw said it more like a statement than a question. Root just shrugged with a wily smirk and approached them, dropping a soft kiss on Shaw’s cheek before turning to John.

“My Root. I like that. She never gives me any pet names.” Root whined.

“Oh I give you plenty,” Shaw griped, rolling her eyes. Root turned to her and raised her eyebrows.

“Pain in my ass, thorn in my side, bane of my existence,” Shaw took a step closer to her. “Pillow Princess,” she added with a sneer. John cleared his throat but the girls didn’t move.

“Oh Sweetie, that’s a bit ‘pot-calling-the-kettle-black’ don’t you think?” Shaw opened her mouth to reply but seemed to remember John standing there.

" _My safe place_ was always a nice one though," Root tacked onto the end, the teasing tone gone from her voice. She _loved_ to hang that one over Shaw's head. Shaw would've regretted telling her about that particular simulation if it didn't leave Root with that stupid, intoxicated grin on her face every time she remembered she was her safe place. Shaw knew Root still cried sometimes when she thought about how many times she had killed herself to keep her safe (sometimes - most of the time - Shaw didn't understand how somebody who had done so many terrible things could feel _so much,_ but that was part of what made Root, Root), so Shaw didn't _completely_ regret giving her a small part that made her happy.

She wished Root would keep it to herself though. Lionel, Harold, and John had _all_ been reminded on _numerous_ occasions that she was her safe place. At least the boys knew better than to bring it up around her.

“Go home, Root.” She snapped, a bit of color in her cheeks. She grabbed the drives from Root's grasp. Root just smiled and brushed past Shaw to the door.

“I thought _I'm_ home? Oh, and don’t forget to pick up some more dog food on your way; Bear’s almost out. And get me some soy milk too. I know you keep dumping mine down the sink hoping I won’t notice.” And with that, she swung out of the doorway and disappeared. Shaw didn’t have to look at John to see the devious grin he had plastered to his face.

“Don’t say it,” she warned through gritted teeth without turning around, her feet still tethered to the floor.

“She’s _so_ your girlfriend.”


	4. A Hole in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw stumbles home in the middle of the night to find Root binge watching a classic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to make no sense if you’ve never seen Buffy/Angel. I’d honestly recommend just skipping it…of course, if you haven’t seen Buffy or Angel, I also recommend you stop what it is you are doing right now in this moment and watching it. If the story doesn’t keep you interested, the promise of an adorable, young, nerdy Amy Acker with a Texas accent who may or may not have a thing for tasers definitely should. She'll break your heart again but I promise it's worth it. If you have seen Buffy/Angel, then hopefully you find this at least mildly amusing. If you haven't, you can still read it, it just might be confusing. Maybe just read the last part. I don't know. Up to you haha. Title is from an episode of Angel that anyone who's seen the show should recognize and remember. Enjoy~

Shaw stumbled through her apartment door at two in the morning with a knife wound across her chest and dark bruise from a pistol whip across her face. It’d been a pretty good night by her standards. She didn’t bother trying to keep quiet as she shuffled into her apartment; Root had told her she had big plans for the night and Shaw assumed The Machine would have her out all night like usual.

Of course, Shaw realized what Root’s 'important plans' really were when she pushed the apartment door open and was greeted by the hum of a familiar theme song resonating out from her TV.

“Root, _what the hell?”_ Shaw questioned incredulously as she pushed the door shut and bound over to the couch. Root didn’t tear her eyes away from the screen in front of her until Shaw physically stood in her line of sight, blocking her gaze to the screen.

“Hmm?” Root asked as she dragged her eyes upward to meet Shaw’s. She had dark circles under her eyes and a bit of butter in the corner of her lips. Shaw spotted a knocked over bucket of popcorn on the couch beside Root. She snatched it up when she caught Bear cautiously rolling his tongue around in the bucket licking up the leftover butter. He whined softly when he’d been caught.

“ _This_ was your ‘important plan' for the night?”

“ _Sam,_ you don’t get it,” she leaned forward with a spark in her eye. Shaw had to bite back the laugh brewing inside of her. She never pegged Root for a TV nerd. Then again, Root was _every_ kind of nerd.

“I found this show on Netflix during an undercover mission in a college a few weeks ago, and now I’m finally on the last season. I had to find out what happens next! Besides, I knew you could handle yourself tonight,” Root carried on, her words in a rush. Somewhere in the discussion, she’d managed to reach across to the remote on the coffee table and press pause, because _god forbid_ she missed a few seconds of her show.

“ _Root,_ we don’t even have Netflix,” Shaw rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help finding the sight at least mildly amusing. Root acted like she had discovered the 8th world wonder, not a wildly popular cult classic.

“I know, but Harry does.” Root smiled a smile Shaw knew all too well – that innocent grin she always wore when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to – before adding, “Well, he does now.”

“You’re impossible,” Shaw shook her head, the edges of her lips betraying her as they curled to show her minor amusement.

“So what episode are we on?” Shaw sighed as she plopped down into the couch behind Root, rolling her eyes as she felt popcorn crumbs crunch beneath her. Root was many, _many_ things, and unfortunately for Shaw’s furniture, _messy_ was one of them. Shaw couldn’t complain too much though. She was just glad to see that the stick figure beside her had eaten _something_ , even if it was just a jumbo load of junk that she’d shared with the dog.

Shaw tried to ignore the grin Root was shooting her at the unintentional implication of her use of ‘we.’

“Just hit play already, I’m ready to what Team Angel’s up to,” Shaw rolled her eyes, still looking at the paused screen on her TV instead of Root’s crooked smile. She still caught Root raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side through her peripheral.  

“ _You’ve seen it?”_ Root asked, the excitement in her voice almost as heavy as when she got to shoot someone.

“ _Everyone_ has seen this, Root.” Shaw chuckled, shaking her head in irritation. Root’s eyebrows ruffled in confusion. Shaw couldn’t believe Root of all people had missed the memo that Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and its counterpart Angel) were practically a rite of passage in the 90s and early 2000s. Shaw watched it with some of the guys from the Marines when it first aired; it kept her entertained enough when there was nobody for her to shoot at. Root was apparently too busy taking hit jobs to bother following the latest TV trends.

“Which character do you think I am?” Root questioned, turning to face Shaw and pulling her legs up onto the couch to cross them on her lap. Shaw was amazed Root could tuck her legs away like that; they were a mile long.

“You remind me of Fred a bit,” Shaw shrugged. Root looked outraged.

“ _Fred?”_ She said the name distastefully, like it was the name of a long lost friend she held a grudge against.

"Not even close," She huffed.

“Oh come on. You’re both from Texas, you both disappeared from a library, you both have a thing for tasers and talking about things nobody else but the other nerdy white guy understands. You both wound up with a god in your body, more or less.”

Root’s eyes widened at the last part. _Oops, not that far yet,_ Shaw paused before continuing.

“You both were absolutely insane when you joined the team, too.”

Root was still pouting, and Shaw was enjoying Root’s frustration.

“I’m _nothing_ like Fred!”

“You guys even kinda look alike,” Shaw added, surprised by how much fun she was having teasing Root.

“We _do not,”_ Root groaned in frustration.

“I think I’m Faith.” She added smugly. Shaw laughed out loud.

“No way. _I’m_ Faith. At least, before she pulls that redemption bullshit.”

“No, you’re Angel.” Now Root was the one teasing.

“ _Please,_ ” Shaw rolled her eyes. She was nothing like that sulking, self-sacrificing, love-struck sap.

“Angelus maybe,” She scoffed under her breath.

“Oh Sweetie, you’re _so_ Mrs. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. Well-” Root caught herself with a playful smirk, “-Mrs. _Small-_ Dark-and Handsome. I think you guys even make the same brooding face.”

“C’mon, at least let me be Spike. John’s Angel, not me,” Shaw grumbled. Root had a smug glint in her eye, like Shaw had played into her trap, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Only if I get to be Drusilla.” Root was playing with her hair, twisting the curls into her fingers. She had a crazed look her eyes.

“Oh my god you totally _are_ Dru,” Shaw laughed lightly. She expected Root to be irritated by her proclamation, but instead she just looked pleased with herself.

“Wait, hold on. No. _No._ We are definitely _not_ Spike and Drusilla.” Shaw deadpanned, her voice losing its playful tone.

“I know,” Root grinned, “You’d never leave me for some preppy blonde.”

“Root, are you trying to make me strangle you,” Shaw griped.

“Careful Sam, you’re starting to make us sound more and more like Spike and Dru every time you speak.”

Shaw sent her a threatening glare. Root reached for the remote and hit the play button, the theme music just coming to an end.

“By the way,” Root whispered as she leaned into Shaw on the couch, “I think you’re Gunn.”

Shaw smiled contently at that. She could handle being the muscle. _And who could argue that the name didn’t suite her too?_

***

Root woke Shaw up at 11 the next day with tear stained cheeks.  Shaw was disoriented for a moment, finding herself sprawled out on the couch her arms around Root (which she quickly pulled away) instead of tucked away in her own bed. She also couldn’t believe Root let her sleep the entire day away. Her whole routine was off now. She registered Root’s tears and choked sobs before she registered the words she was saying.

“Root, calm down. What the hell are you talking about?” Shaw grumbled, stretching as she sat up with a yawn. That’s when she saw the TV still on as Netflix waited for the command to play the next episode of Angel.

“ _Sameen,_ ” Root started, but the tone of her voice and the use of Shaw’s full name sounded more like she was scolding a kid in trouble than anything else. Usually Root was being flirty when she addressed Shaw that way. This was anything but flirty.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Root struck Shaw against the arm. Shaw rubbed the spot absentmindedly, her mind racing trying to figure out what she did wrong.

“Tell you what?” Shaw asked in frustrated confusion. She had no idea what was going on. It was the middle of day, Root smelled like she hadn’t showered in days and looked like she hadn’t slept in even longer, and despite the tear stained cheeks she bore, she was still scolding Shaw like she was in trouble for something.

“How do you just senselessly kill a main character off in the last season like that,” Root shook her head. Shaw laughed out loud when she realized what this was all about. _Fred. Root’s crazy ass really stayed up watching this damn show for 9 hours straight._

“Relax, Root. She comes back as a goddess,” Shaw shrugged.

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?” Root seemed more affected by this than anything Shaw had even seen from her. She’d watched her shoot people with a smile on her face, torture people with a giggle, and yet here she was in tears, completely distraught over a fictional character. Shaw thought for a moment she might be dreaming, but even her imagination couldn't think _this_ up.

“It’s better than nothing I guess,” Shaw said, getting up from the couch as she felt her stomach growling.

“You can’t just kill a character off for no reason just to bring them back as a goddess, Sam. That’s not right.”

“You know what else isn’t right? It’s lunch time and I never got breakfast.” 

“I’ll make you a pancake sandwich, kill two birds with one stone.” Root suggested through sniffles with a hasty shrug. Shaw couldn’t help the smile that developed across her face. _Of course the one person to ever make her feel anything was a_ _semi-psychotic, excessively-violent, meal-inventing psychopath with homicidal tendencies that cared more about fictional people than real ones. Of course._

Shaw ate her pancake sandwich on the couch listening to Root yell at Illyria on the screen like she could actually hear her protests.

She had to admit, she was a bit surprised to find Root didn’t like the idea of dying to become a god so much after all.


	5. Since I've Been Lovin' You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw finally pops the question to Root...well, after she finds out they're already married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the Led Zeppelin song. I've basically decided canon just isn't real lol. Set after season 5 I guess, Root and John are both still alive. Hope you enjoy!

Shaw had been alone in the subway for all of 17 minutes before she found herself staring at the brick walls of her prison in serious contemplation of making a run for it despite Harold’s orders. She hated when he made her stick behind and play nerd; that was his and Root’s job. She belonged out there kicking ass with John. But somehow, despite her protests, Root and John took off to find some corrupt FBI analyst (Finch had insisted that Root’s specific skill set would prove to be more beneficial in that scenario. Shaw of course scoffed in defiance, refusing to admit there was anything Root was better suited for than she was. Root found it quite amusing which just made Shaw even _more_ angry, but nevertheless, she let Root take off with John anyway). It was only shortly after they left that Finch demanded she stick around the computers in case they needed some assistance and left to take care of a “little project” that he refused to elaborate upon.

17 minutes after he left, Shaw had already grown bored of watching the yellow tennis ball bounce across the subway floor as Bear chased it, and she quickly found herself seated in front of Harold’s computer with nothing but the soft sound of the subway to keep her company. She tried out a few of the short codes Root had taught her over the past couple of weeks, but of course she managed to mix _something_ up (not that she would ever admit it to Root), and found herself facing a perpetual flash of “error’” blinking across the screen no matter what she tried to press to undo it. Eventually she just turned off the monitor, intent on blaming John (because why not? John was easy to blame things on), and paced around to find something else to occupy her time until Root and John either returned or called for her help.

She eventually wound up in Root’s old room in the subway, where she stayed before Shaw came back and they had somehow symbiotically grown together without Shaw even realizing it. She’d only just realized they’d been living together when Fusco pointed it out to her a full two months later. She tried to deny it, but after going home that night and realizing that she had indeed cleared out some weaponry from her fridge so Root’s unnaturally large supply of soymilk would have room in there, and how despite Shaw’s utter hatred for anything that didn’t fall on the greyscale, there was a purple shag carpet decorating her bathroom floor, and how she now had a “side of the bed” rather than sprawling in the middle, and how there was a stupid purple lava lamp that lit up her previously pitch black room… well the next day Shaw couldn’t stop glaring at Fusco for making her realize she’d somehow wound up one of _those people –_ you know, the domesticated ones that actually came home to a some _one_ rather than a some _where_ every night.

Root had cleared most of her things out of that old nook in the subway, but there were a few things she never bothered packing up. Shaw assumed it was mostly because she never officially _moved in,_ so what she brought over was extremely gradual and slow. Or maybe she needed a private place for some things she didn’t want Shaw to see, though Shaw couldn’t think of anything Root wouldn’t share with her. They’d been through hell and back together and while Shaw was still a pretty closed book (save for the occasional late night pillow talks where somehow Shaw couldn’t stop the words that came tumbling out her that left Root with a dumbstruck lovesick smile on her face), Root seemed to share everything she could with Shaw. So much sometimes, that Shaw could hardly bare it. Root didn’t open herself up to the boys at all, but with Shaw there was no hiding. At least, that’s what she thought.

Shaw found a shoe box tucked away under the bed. She only caught it because Bear managed to roll his toy under there and whine at her until she crawled under to get it. Once under the bed, something about the shoe box caught her attention. First off, it wasn’t blanketed in dust like most of the other things in the room. It looked like it had been opened recently, which made Shaw wonder why Root kept it hidden under the bed. She opened it and found a bunch of IDs, Root’s picture with various names under them all. Her cover identities. But one stood out to Shaw in particular. It said “Samantha Shaw.” She stared at it for a while, even said the name out loud of few times just to see how it rolled off her tongue. It felt foreign to say, someone else’s first name with her last. But somehow, it seemed to flow miraculously. She held up the ID and compared it with the others. It was the only one where the photo actually looked like, well, Root. The rest of them, something was off. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or she had on much more makeup than Root ever wore. Some had wild hair dos, one was even the same picture that had been used for her chart in the psychiatric hospital. But the Samantha Shaw ID just looked completely and entirely like Root. Shaw dumped it back inside, wondering when she had to go undercover with that particular name, when something else caught her attention. A torn open envelope. Shaw’s heart rate increased dramatically. She knew what it was before she opened it, but she had to see the words for herself.

Inside, was a marriage certificate, a marriage certificate with not only her name but also her _signature (_ even though she never signed it), and Root’s as well. It was dated just over a year ago, right before she had been taken by Samaritan. Shaw knew Samaritan messed with her head pretty bad, but she was sure she would’ve remembered getting _married,_ since it was something she would never in a million years do under any circumstances. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even hear anyone enter the subway until Root’s voice broke through the silence.

“Hey Sweetie,” Root’s voice shook slightly, just enough for Shaw to notice but not anyone else. Not anybody that didn’t have her voice memorized down to each octave.

“Root,” Shaw started through gritted teeth, “what is this?” Shaw held up the marriage license. Root’s ears flushed a light shade of pink, but her smirk didn’t falter. She was good at maintaining her composure.

“A marriage certificate,” she shrugged. Shaw shot her a threatening glance, demanding that she elaborate.

“ _Our_ marriage certificate,” she clarified at Shaw’s irate glare, trying to keep things light even though Shaw could almost _hear_ Root’s heart pounding.

“Root, you can’t just marry someone and not tell them!” Shaw reprimanded with an incredulous expression.

“Well you would’ve said no if I asked you,” she grumbled. Shaw couldn’t stop her jaw from falling open.

“That’s the _point,_ Root.”

“And besides, _I_ didn’t want to ask _you_.” She whined. Shaw raised her eyebrows.

“I wanted _you_ to ask _me_.” Root said, and despite the steadiness of her voice and her playful smirk, Shaw could see the nervous disappointment in her eyes.

“You know I never would’ve done that.”

“I know. Which is why I just _did_ this. I don’t want you do be someone you’re not, Sam. I never expected it from you. It was just nice to think about sometimes is all. I’ve always loved a fairy tale ending but I’ve also always known I’d never get one. Things changed when I met you and I know you’d never give me some big fancy ceremony in a church with white dresses and I’m more than okay with that because you mean more to me than a wedding ever could, but I couldn’t help that I wanted to be married to you anyway. I just had Her take care it and figured if you didn’t know about it then you couldn’t make a big fuss over it.”

“How did She even manage it? I mean, I’m supposed to be dead and you technically don’t even exist anymore.” Shaw was trying to direct the conversation away from the touchy-feely direction it was beginning to head towards.

“She has her ways, Sameen.” Root had the same glint in her eye that was always there when she spoke about The Machine.

“Well, just undo whatever this is.” Shaw commanded, pushing the marriage certificate at Root.

“You’re saying you want a _divorce?_ ” Root looked so shocked and hurt, Shaw almost laughed at her ridiculousness. Sometimes she wondered exactly how Root’s brain worked, but she remembered people probably often thought that about her too.

“No Root, I’m saying I want you to erase this since I never actually agreed to be married in the first place.”

“I won’t sign the divorce papers. We’d have to divide up all our stuff, fight for custody over Bear, not to mention the whole ordeal of having a messy divorce in the workplace.”

“ _Root, it is not a divorce.”_ Shaw’s patience was wearing thin. Just then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, John stumbled up to the entry way.

“Who’s getting divorced?” He asked with mild curiosity.

“Nobody is getting _divorced,_ ” Shaw spat out through a clenched jaw.

“Glad we could come to an agreement on that, Sweetie.” Root had a smug expression plastered on her face like she’d won something.

“ _Root!”_ Shaw turned back towards her. John had his head cocked to the side slightly in confusion. And that’s when he saw paper Root held delicately in her hands. He reached out and grabbed it before Shaw could stop him.

“You guys are _married?”_ He gasped incredulously. Shaw was about to punch that amused smile off his mouth when Harold sauntered up behind him with his eye brows raised in interest of the scene unfolding. Shaw had a sudden desire to shoot them all right then and there.

“We are _not_ married.” Shaw griped, her eyes dark with anger. Harold shifted nervously behind John in case Shaw decided to strike out. _Smart man,_ Shaw thought to herself.

“Well according to this, you _are_ definitely married.” Harold quipped. _Nevermind, he’s a very stupid man._

“I’m not doing this right now. Root, _undo this shit.”_ Shaw demanded as she began to push past John and Harold to leave.

“I can’t just undo our whole marriage, Sameen.” Root pouted.

“It’s not a marriage if one person doesn’t even know about it!”

“Look, they’re having their first married-couple fight.” John smiled smugly. Shaw grabbed him in a headlock before he even saw it coming. Shaw was sure this was just an awful nightmare when Fusco wobbled up to this with his eyebrows wrinkled together. _This could not be happening._

“What’s going on here?” He asked Harold.

“Say congratulations to the newlyweds.” John choked out through Shaw’s grip. She tightened it, but not before he could point between Root and Shaw.

“Oh it’s not new, John. We’ve been married for over a year now. Shaw unfortunately wasn’t here to celebrate our anniversary though.”

“ _A year?”_ Fusco’s eyes widened. Shaw looked at Root with absolute shock in her eyes. She was being held captive and tortured by an evil AI and its minions on their so called “anniversary,” Root could not _seriously_ be mad at her for missing it.

“We are _not_ married, Lionel.” Shaw said with a small grunt as she tried to hold John in place.

"How do you not remember your own wedding?" He blinked in confusion.

"Because there was no wedding! I didn't even know we were married until five minutes ago!"

"That seems like the sort of thing you should remember," John choked out again, clearly not fazed by Shaw’s chokehold. The casual way they both stood had Fusco wondering if Shaw often held him in a headlock.

"So you're saying that Miss Groves had The Machine fake a marriage license and certificate for the two of you without your consent or knowledge? That doesn’t sound like something she would do." Harold chimed in. Shaw dropped John with her eyes wide and pointed towards Harold.

"Finch, that sounds EXACTLY like something she would do." Shaw groaned.

"She's right Harry, that does sound exactly like something I would do." Root agreed. At least Root knew she was crazy.

"Not you, Miss Groves - or should I say Mrs. Shaw?" He looked pleased with himself, despite the fact that John had to physically step between him and Shaw.

"The Machine, it shouldn't do things like that. Manipulate records for our personal benefit. It's not coded for that." Harold clarified.

 "She's always made me her exception Harry, you know that. She was just trying to do me a favor. Don't be mad at her."

"Root, tell your stupid robot go d to delete all this." Shaw demanded.

"No." Root said it like a pouty child. Shaw looked to the boys for backup but they were all too busy trying not to laugh. Shaw shook her head in exasperation.

"C'mon Root, this isn't funny."

"It wasn't funny when you were…gone either. It wasn't funny at all but it was still nice to come home, or this hole in a subway station that was the closest thing I had without you, and just say _our_ name until I fell asleep. It made me feel close to you, okay? I just… I don't want to get divorced." Shaw paused a moment because she didn't realize this was something serious, but the moment was so quick only Root noticed it.

She replied after a beat, "it's not getting divorced, Root It's just deleting records that aren't real anyway. This piece of paper doesn't make us married, and breaking it won't make us divorced. It's not real. Just delete it." Root still refused, and the argument just dragged on with neither willing to budge, but even two weeks later Shaw couldn’t get “ _our_ name” to stop playing in her head.

One day, after a long run with Bear, she found herself staring through the window of a jewelry store for no reason whatsoever.

"No, no way." She said out loud, but her legs didn't listen.

"This is not happening." Shaw grumbled again as her body pushed through the door like it had a mind of its own. Shaw was mortified by her own actions, but she couldn't seem to stop. She didn't care about marriage, she hated the whole concept in all honestly, and not one second of it sounded even remotely enjoyable, except maybe the honeymoon if enough sex was involved.

She shook her head as she walked past the ring case. She told herself to walk out and never look back, but her body wouldn't move. She sighed as she finally gave in. Maybe she could do it after all, for Root, if that's what she wanted. It was only a label, nothing would really change between them, Root would still respect her boundaries as much as she always had (which was hardly at all), and Shaw had learned recently that labels didn't mean much anyway. After all, she'd always been labeled ‘Sociopath,' and yet here she was in a ring shop shuffling over enough money to buy a car for a lousy piece of jewelry. _Some sociopath I am,_ she scoffed to herself as she pointed to a diamond ring with a white-gold band and a princess cut stone. She shook her head in disgust at the shop owner pulled it out.

She got the ring, but she'd sooner shoot herself in both knees getting down on one. Shaw had the ring engraved on a whim, cursing herself the entire time. When she went back to pick it up, the man who engraved it had asked her what ‘four alarm fire’ meant, but her only reply was that it was something he’d never understand. And that was true. How could anyone understand her and Root? Shaw herself didn’t even understand it.

Shaw didn’t wait long before just getting it over with. Only a few days after she’d gotten the ring back from getting the engraving, she tossed the box to Root one night during dinner, mumbling,

“Don’t make it a big deal,” through a mouthful of Chinese take-out. Root just stared at the box in shock, not a muscle in her body moving. She didn’t even open it. Shaw watched her for a moment before sighing and reaching across the table to open the box. Root’s eyes glistened more than the diamond at the sight of it.

“If this is what you really want…I can do that, I think. I can try. For you. Just don't expect me to get down on a knee with some grand speech or anything okay? This is who I am, take it or leave it."

Root was crying, hard, and Shaw just sat there awkwardly for minute after minute (still shoveling food into her mouth of course), and she thought she did something wrong until Root embraced her in a bear hug, knocking over Shaw’s Teriyaki chicken in the process. For once, Shaw didn’t mind to lose her food before she’d finished.

Root was mumbling that this was better than she ever could've dreamed her life would be, stuttering out in choked sobs. Shaw was sure nobody else in the world would’ve been able to decipher what she was saying through her tears.

She pulled Root away asking her if she was always going to be so sappy. Root looked at her with a mischievous smirk, which didn't quite have the same affect with all the redness around her eyes but the message was clear.

"You're the one who spent all day in a ring shop, Sameen. Sure I'm the one that's getting sappy?"

“I didn't-" Shaw didn't even bother finishing her lie. Of course The Machine ratted her out. Shaw just rolled her eyes but she couldn't help but smile. She felt gross at the thought of getting married, but the smile on Root's face made it more worth it than anything else in the world. Root disappeared in her room for a while that night and Shaw thought for sure Root was working something up in there to thank her, but eventually she returned with a ring that she explained was her mother’s.

Shaw wasn't the sentimental type but she finally put the ring on a chain around her neck after spending half an hour arguing against it. She didn't tell Root she was secretly glad to have it. It made her feel connected to Root in a way she didn’t really understand, but it was nice, sort of.

Shaw told everybody she regretted proposing to Root every time Root felt the need to tell anyone with in hearing distance that they were getting married (literally everyone. She announced it to their waiters, to other people in the elevators, to the cashiers at the grocery store, to the teenagers that delivered their takeout, and so on. Literally, _everyone),_ but Root knew Shaw didn't mean it. She still kept the ring chained around her neck, and Root would occasionally catch her playing with the ring, running it through her fingers softly when she was upset or in deep thought or sometimes just while they argued.

Root was glad Shaw found the fraudulent marriage certificate; the real thing was better than the faked one ever could’ve been.


	6. Seemed like a Good Idea at the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root and Shaw get arrested for public indecency. Good times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might actually continue this one, it was fun to write. Not sure yet though. Let me know what you think!

Shaw had never been a victim of clichés. But she had to admit, the best description for _how_ she wound up in jail that night was “it seemed like a good idea at the time.” She couldn’t get over the absurdity of the whole thing though. She could’ve written a whole novel just listing all of the felonies she’d committed in the past year alone, but the only time she actually got busted for something, it was a crummy misdemeanor. Public indecency of all things. _We weren’t even_ that _indecent,_ Shaw thought to herself as she tried to refrain from attacking the police officers from the back of the car. Root looked pretty pleased with herself in the seat beside her, which was only irritating Shaw even more.

“Thanks for bringing the handcuffs to the party boys,” Root started as the cops pushed them into the backseat. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Root,” Shaw warned in a whisper through her clenched jaw. The cops didn’t dignify Root’s comment with a response.

Halfway to the jail, Shaw realized Root had scooted closer to her across the seat. She was looking at her with those bring brown eyes, alight with a fire Shaw knew all too well.

“Seriously? Right now?” Shaw raised her eyebrows, trying her best to sound annoyed but even she couldn’t help but find some mild amusement in Root’s suggestion.

“What are they going to do? _Arrest us?_ ” Root smirked, giving a tug on her handcuffs to make her point. Their voices were low enough that the officers in the front seat couldn’t hear them. Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Sorry to break it to you, but your hands are a bit, uh, _preoccupied_ at the moment.” Shaw gestured to Root’s handcuffs with a nod of her head.

“But _yours_ aren’t,” she said through a smile. “They don’t have what it takes to keep you tied up.”

Shaw smirked in return, pulling one hand from behind her back so Root could see that she was right. Shaw had gotten out of her cuffs before they’d even made it one block. She slowly raised one hand up, dragging it along Root’s thigh as she leaned forward so their mouths were almost touching. She felt Root shiver beneath her finger tips.

“Neither do you,” Shaw whispered into her lips before pulling away and putting her hand back behind herself. Root let her head fall against the headrest with a huff.

“You’re a tease,” she pouted and shifted her body uncomfortably on the seat. Shaw rolled her eyes.

“You’re one to talk.”

“I wasn’t _teasing_ when the cops showed up,” Root reminded her. Shaw couldn’t help the satisfied smile that played across her lips at the thought.

“No, no you definitely weren’t.” Shaw was sure the officers were traumatized, at the very least the rookie whose face went white when he approached the scene. Shaw had to forcibly bite her tongue to keep from laughing while he stuttered through reading them their rights.

Root spent the rest of the drive giving Shaw her best puppy dog eyes, her bottom lip protruding out in a little pout. Shaw resigned her glance out the window, determined to not look over in Root’s direction. Sometimes it scared her how hard it was for her to say no to Root. That’s how she wound up in this situation in the first place, after all. She decided it was better to just not look at Root at all the rest of the drive.

By the time they were behind bars, Root had no patience left. She wasn’t too worried about getting arrested because she knew they had plenty of options for getting out. She wasn’t counting on Shaw turning down _every single one of them._

“We could just call Fusco,” Root sighed, running her fingers through her knotted up hair as she tried but failed to untangle the mess.

“No.” Shaw stated harshly in return, staring at a brick wall instead of looking at Root.

“Sameen, we have to call somebody.” Root scolded. Shaw was acting like a petulant child and she was fed up with it.

“I said no. I don’t want to call Fusco.”

“Usually when you get arrested and you have a cop friend, that’s kind of _exactly_ who you want to call,” Root pointed out.

“We aren’t calling him,” Shaw replied, her tone sharp and as she gritted her teeth for having to repeat herself. Root watched her jaw clench and she would’ve been afraid for herself if she wasn’t, well, _Root._

“How about Harold? He could _definitely_ bail us out,” she tried again.

“ _There is no way in hell we’re telling Harold.”_ Shaw turned around with a ridiculous expression on her face, like Root had just suggested they jumped out of a plane without a parachute or something equally outrageous.

“Sam!” Root groaned in frustration. They had to call _someone._ Root had no desire to be there any longer than she had to be. She missed being able to talk to The Machine, but she was getting no reception to her implant from inside the cell and they had no access to phones.

“Do you seriously want to explain this situation to Finch.” Shaw said it like more of a statement than a question. Root realized calling Finch would be much like calling your father when you got arrested. He’d certainly help, but the lecturing and disapproving looks would never end. She sighed.

“How about John?” Root thought he might actually be the best bet. Her and John fought like siblings but they always seemed to be there for each other when it mattered. She was honestly surprised when Shaw’s face drained of color at the mere _thought_ of calling John, like it was the worst suggestion Root had yet.

“No. Absolutely not. _No._ ”

“We don’t exactly have that many friends to choose from,” Root reminded her, letting her head fall into her hands as her elbows rested on her knees.

“Can’t you just like hack into their system and show our bail is paid for or something?”

“Sure, because that would be possible even if I _wasn’t_ behind bars with no computer access,” Root rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to be her usual flirty self. Shaw was legitimately getting on her nerves for once and the appeal of teasing her didn’t look quite as amusing as usual.

“There’s no need to have an attitude with me. It’s not like this is _my_ fault,” Shaw huffed.

“So now you’re blaming _me?_ ” Root asked her incredulously. Shaw raised her eyebrows, as if saying _Duh!_

“Well you weren’t exactly complaining about it earlier,” Root snapped at her. “You seemed to think it was a pretty good idea, actually,” she added, reminding Shaw of her part in the unfortunate chain of events that went down that night.

“Well it _seemed_ like a good idea _at the time!_ Now? Not so much.”

“You have to admit it was worth it though,” Root said, unable to contain the quick smirk that followed. It was almost _natural_ to her at this point. Not flirting with Shaw just felt weird, no matter how frustrated she was with her at the moment.

“I’d rather stay in jail than tell them,” Shaw quickly changed the subject back to their previous argument. She didn’t want to give Root the satisfaction of agreeing, but she knew denying it would only spur Root on even more.

“We don’t _have_ to say what _exactly_ happened,” Root tried to reason with her. She figured they could at least make something up if they had to. Just about _anything_ would be believable when it came to the two of them together.

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Root. There are only so many ways you can get arrested for public indecency.” Shaw shook her head, looking away from Root again. She wasn’t sure _why_ she was so against telling the boys what happened – she’d never exactly been _shy_ before – but for some reason the thought of explaining the situation to them made her stomach churn unpleasantly and she just _knew_ she didn’t want them to know.

“Okay, what about Zoe?” Root tried, hoping maybe calling somebody who wasn’t as close to them would be enough of a compromise for Shaw.

It wasn’t.

“No! She’ll just tell John.”            

“I’m waiting for you to start suggesting something then,” Root sighed with annoyance, sick of all her ideas being shot down.

“I already did. We just stay in jail.” Shaw’s tone was sharp and serious, like she was stating a well-known fact that nobody would ever question.

“That’s not a plan, Sam,” Root sighed in exasperation, trying again to fix her hair.

“Fine, how about I beat you up and you can escape when they take you to the hospital?” Shaw’s voice rose and she stood up, facing Root menacingly, but Root knew she would never follow through. Not with her. Shaw had gotten weird about hurting her out of anger ever since they’d started sleeping together. She didn’t really understand why, Shaw had punched her before, but Shaw was adamant to only inflicting sex injuries upon Root. And Root wasn’t exactly complaining about that.

“And how do you plan on getting out?” Root wasn’t even trying to conceal her irritation with Shaw anymore.

“I don’t. I told you. I’m staying in jail that way I never have to tell John what happened.” Shaw looked at Root like she’d just said the most sensible thing in the world. Root couldn’t help but notice how much Shaw acted like a teenager sometimes.

“Why are you so afraid to tell anyone?”

“I’m not _afraid.”_ Shaw cringed at the word. She wasn’t _afraid_ of anything.

 _“_ Then what’s your problem?” Root spat at her, because _clearly_ something was her problem.

“I don’t have a problem! I just don’t want anyone to know my business, okay?”

“Sam, I don’t want to stay here over night.”

“We aren’t calling anybody,” Shaw said with finality. She made her decision and that was that…until Root pulled out her best big brown puppy dog eyes.

10 minutes later they were on the phone with Fusco to bail them out of jail.  


End file.
